


Genesis

by Donna_Immaculata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donna_Immaculata/pseuds/Donna_Immaculata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill goes werewolf hunting. In the nicest possible way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genesis

I.

After the others had left, Bill stayed behind to store away the scrolls of parchment and clean away all remainders of the meeting. The only other occupant of the kitchen was Remus, who was busy studying one of the scrolls at the other side of the table. The man looked perfectly at ease, sipping his wine and pushing his greying hair from his eyes every now and then whilst reading, apparently oblivious of the long glances Bill kept casting at him. Finally, Bill spoke.

"May I ask you something?"

Remus looked up and smiled pleasantly.

"Certainly, Bill."

"How do you really feel about it?"

"Pardon me?" Remus frowned.

Bill shrugged. "You know... What Snape said, about Pettigrew. That he has You-Know-Who's full confidence, is his right-hand man. How do you feel about it?" And as Remus remained silent, Bill added, "You never say much on that matter, but I see you reading Snape's reports over and over again. I don't mean to pry," he said quickly as Remus' eyes darkened, "But I don't-" he shrugged again, "I am prying, after all, eh? But, you know, I am worried. After all that he's done, and he used to be your friend, and- I am not doing well at all, am I?" he said with a lopsided grin. Remus shook his head slowly.

"I only mean to say," Bill tried again, "that I am worried you might do something stupid. When you get the chance to get near him."

Remus stood up slowly and stepped closer to Bill. "Ah, the amount of stupid things I would do if I got the chance," he smiled.

Bill held his gaze. "Like what?"

Remus didn't answer. Staring at him from close quarters, Bill noticed how long the other man's lashes were and that his eyes were a shade of muddy green-brown, and that his lips were cold and bitter with wine, but that his breath was burning hot, and when Bill blinked and frowned, Remus stood a few feet away from him, his gaze calm and unflinching. Bill raised a hand and pressed his fingers to his own mouth.

"Some stupid things are less stupid than others," Bill said. Remus smiled, and this time it reached his eyes.

II.

Bill had entered the Blacks' library for the double purpose of finding reference literature on the migration of sirens in Eastern Europe and escaping his mother. Browsing the shelves at his leisure, he stepped from behind a tall stack of books and saw Hermione Granger hunched over some huge volume or other at the table by the window. She looked up and he grinned and raised his hand by way of greeting. She smiled and he noticed her blush faintly. It didn't surprise him. He knew she had a bit of a crush on him: she was best friends with Ron, after all, who was sort of a younger - and fainter - copy of himself. A few years more, when Ron got rid of his adolescent awkwardness, Bill thought, and Hermione might be persuaded to pay him more attention that she did now.

He strolled casually towards her when Remus emerged from the row of shelves to her right. On seeing Bill, Remus smiled and made towards him, but Hermione turned to him and asked him something. Remus stepped to her table and leaned over it. She was talking animatedly, her face aglow with emotion, and Bill raised one eyebrow, amused, thinking that she obviously saved up the main part of her crush for Remus. Her cheeks burned brightly pink and her eyes never left his face as he listened attentively, smiled, nodded, and then leaned in closer to point out something in her book.

Bill bit down on his lip to smother his grin and retreated into a row of shelves. He was still grinning when he heard soft footsteps approaching. Remus low voice sounded close to his ear, and his heart skipped a beat.

"'Advanced Potions Making for Home and Garden'," Remus read aloud the title of the tome Bill had been looking at. "Severus would be delighted to see such dedication to the fine art of potion brewing." Bill lowered his head, his hair following the motion, hiding his face. He wondered briefly when, exactly, that voice had started to have such an effect on him. "Then again, so would be your mother - delighted to see your dedication to home and garden."

Bill half-turned to face Remus, who was leaning with his hip against the shelf, his arms folded across his chest. Bill caught himself rearranging his limbs to mirror the pose and braced one arm against the row of thick volumes instead. Remus looked vaguely amused. Bill cocked his head towards Hermione.

"Must have been an interesting experience, being a teacher," he said, grinning.

"Oh yes, very interesting," Remus voice was perfectly calm, but a mischievous smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "There's a lot they can teach us in turn, you know."

"I'm sure there is. So what is it they have taught you... Remus?"

Through a gap between the books, Bill could see Hermione's face as she was looking intently in their direction. The wave of excitement that overrode him, he knew, was partly due to the fact that they were being watched. But the major part of it could be safely contributed to Remus standing in such close proximity and to the delightful flutter of nerves that always occurred when the hunt was on and its outcome unpredictable.

He realised that Remus was watching him, an eyebrow raised, with unveiled amusement and that he had missed the other man's answer.

"Pardon me?"

Remus laughed softly. "You, on the other hand, don't seem to be an attentive student. You're not even listening."

"I'm watching." Bill nodded in Hermione's direction without averting his eyes from Remus' face. "Some keener student of yours is very much interested in our conversation."

Without so much as turning his head in the indicated direction, Remus took one step towards Bill, moving from Hermione's line of vision. Bill shifted slightly. Hermione's face disappeared behind the stack of books.

"She can still see your legs," Bill pointed out.

"My legs aren't doing anything improper." Remus had unfolded his arms. One hand rested loosely on a dusty book, long fingers curled slightly.

"Shame, really," said Bill.

He was prepared, this time, for the feeling of Remus' lips against his, but the sensation overwhelmed him even more than it had the first time. This wasn't the chaste, dreamlike kiss they had shared in the kitchen. Remus opened his mouth as soon as their lips had made contact, and Bill's lips parted of their own accord, his tongue snaking forward. There was nothing unreal about that kiss. Remus' breath was hot and substantial in his mouth, Remus' tongue was slick and... _naked_ against his own, and Bill swallowed a single desperate moan before it could leave his mouth and attract unwanted attention. He felt Remus' lips curve up in a smug smile and bit down, hard, on the other man's lower lip. The startled sound Remus made went straight to his cock, which, against all probability, grew painfully harder.

The heat withdrew suddenly, and when Bill opened his eyes, he saw that Remus, inexplicably, was standing at the tall stack of books. A heavy volume had somehow appeared in his hand and when a second later Hermione stepped around the corner, the book was open randomly and Remus seemingly absorbed in a text about hallucinogenic potions.

"Professor Lupin," said Hermione, almost timidly. "Would you mind helping me with my text again? I'm not sure I wholly understand the reasons for the curses cast to prevent the dead stepping out of their graves. I mean, what was the point? When people are dead and buried," she continued, falling into her usual, half-impatient, half-bossy tone, "it should be expected that they remain buried. It should be the other way round: spells should be cast only to make people come back to life. It's not as though the dead turned into zombies of their own accord, is it? They can only come back from the grave when the living help them in the first place."

Bill almost winced at the pained look that briefly hushed across Remus' face, but the man regained control instantly, and his voice was calm and steady as he answered.

"I'd gladly help you, Hermione, but I'm afraid I am no expert on Exanimalis spells and curses. But why don't you ask Bill? It's his profession to know everything about them."

Hermione looked somewhat disappointed, and as Bill seated himself at the table and launched into an explanation of ancient curses meant to keep the spirits of the dead controlled, he wasn't sure whether his irritation was more due to the fact that she obviously preferred Remus' company over his or the fact that she had so tactlessly mentioned that particular branch of magic to a man who had lost his best friend merely a few weeks ago.

 

III.

He usually didn't spend much time at the headquarters, but on that particular night it seemed an excellent refuge. Work had been strenuous that day, as his desk job was finally getting to him. More and more wizards came to empty their vaults and change their money into Muggle currency, taking desperate measures to escape a war that was raging all throughout their world, and on top of everything, his mother had chosen that evening to pester him about Fleur. She wouldn't listen that he and the girl were merely good friends, and he was happy that Remus hadn't been at the Order meeting and didn't witness that conversation at dinner. The thought of having to patiently explain it all to his mother under that quietly amused gaze was enough to make him cringe.

He had retreated to the library and, sitting on the window seat, hidden behind the heavy curtains, watched darkness fall behind the window. It was almost completely dark inside the library; the windows didn't let in much light, and he was happy enough to let his mind wander aimlessly when the door slammed open with a dull thud and someone stumbled in. Bill startled, his wand sliding smoothly into his grip, before he realised who the intruder was.

Remus.

And Tonks.

The choked moan that reached his ears could have come from either of them. Bill saw Remus manhandle the girl's slighter form easily and push her up against a shelf. Remus robe was unbuttoned and enveloped his frame loosely. He pressed against Tonks, hard, and she gave a loud, shuddering moan that sent Bill's stomach aflutter. He knew he should make his presence known, but the sight of Remus' lean body rubbing against the girl blocked out every sense of shame. He couldn't see much, though, not with Remus' robe floating around them both, covering bodies in a swirl of fabric and shadow. Remus' face was white, intent, and Tonks looked flushed even in the almost-darkness. She clawed at the man's clothes under the robe, and he crushed her to his chest, their mouths meeting in a harsh, desperate kiss. The rough rustling of cotton and denim, the clinking of belt buckles was drowned by the girl's needy panting. Remus remained deadly, unnaturally quiet, but his hands seemed to be working furiously to get her out of her clothes. He let go of her mouth and, gripping her throat with one hand, used the other one to push up her shirt. She was naked underneath and Bill wondered numbly whether she wasn't in the habit of wearing a bra in general or whether she had been expecting _that_. He stopped wondering the moment he saw Remus' mouth slide over her breast, eliciting keen, mewling sounds from her. His hand wandered from her throat up, up to her face and he pressed it firmly over her mouth, stilling her. "Shh," Remus' voice sounder huskier than ever, "Shh. Listen."

Tonks went rigid with the effort of keeping still and, through the pounding of the blood in his ears, Bill heard a soft wet noise and knew instantly that it was caused by Remus' fingers moving insider her.

"So hot," Remus murmured, "so wet."

"Please!" Tonks had freed her mouth from his hand. "Remus! Please."

He groaned - the first loud sound Bill had heard from him - and swirled her around, face-first into the hard wood. As Remus pulled back to open his trousers, Bill saw that her jeans were already pulled down, leaving her arse and thighs fully exposed, and that her hand was working between her legs. Remus leaned back in, and Bill barely suppressed a whimper of disappointment when his robe floated back around their both bodies. Remus' arm curled around her chest, slid lower and from the sounds she made, Bill was sure that his hand had joined hers, stroking and rubbing and preparing her. Tonks' head fell back onto his chest with a loud moan, and Remus fastened his teeth on the tender skin of her throat. Bill bit down on his own hand. Hard.

"Yeah?" Remus' voice was barely more than a growl.

"Oh. Yeah. Now."

The angry sound of flesh slapping against flesh was almost lost on Bill. He concentrated really hard to keep his own noise level under control, not daring move and deal with his own arousal. Tonks' throaty moans nearly drowned out Remus' laboured panting, and as their pace increased, Bill lowered his head onto his drawn-up knees, his vision blackened out by the pain caused by his trapped erection.

"Fuck, Remus." Tonks was pulling up her jeans and rearranging her breasts under the t-shirt. Bill lifted his head and breathed in, shakily. "You're killing me, honestly."

'Not just you,' thought Bill. His legs had gone numb, but his raging erection was unperturbed.

Remus finished fixing his belt and turned towards her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. He rested his chin on her violet hair, his hand rubbing soothing circles over her back. "Are you all right?"

"'Course I am," came her voice, muffled through his shoulder. "I'm not going all teary on you, don't worry." She pulled back slightly and looked up at him. "That was merely meant as a compliment, y'know." Bill could hear her grin as she spoke. "Quite some fuck that was, that's all I'm saying."

Remus didn't return her smile. His face was strangely calm and closed as he said, "That's not what I mean, Nymphadora."

Bill could tell she was trying to keep up her cocky expression, but under Remus' steady gaze, something shattered, she started to speak, faltered, and lowered her head back onto his chest. Remus tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer.

"I am sorry you had to witness that," he whispered, barely audibly. Bill suppressed the urge to put his fingers in his ears and start to hum.

She gave a weak shrug. "That's my job." Her voice was clogged with tears.

"That doesn't mean it's easy."

"I've got to learn to cope with it."

"I'm sorry," Remus repeated. He stroked her hair, her face. "I'm sorry you're forced to learn it."

Tonks freed herself delicately from his arms. "You know, if I didn't know better, I would assume you're gay," she said in a very bright tone. "You're disgustingly understanding. Do you have a hanky?"

Remus gave a short laugh. "Here," he said, holding it out to her. "Keep it," he added, grinning.

She blew her nose and, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, asked, "Can you tell I've been crying?"

He looked at her face closely and shook his head. "No." And as she turned round towards the door, Remus gripped her arm and, gesturing vaguely, asked, "Are you sure you don't want to, er, clean yourself up?"

Tonks frowned, looked down on herself, and smiled. "Yeah. I'm sure." She rose onto her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I want to keep your scent, keep _you_ on myself as long as possible."

The door fell shut behind them and Bill stretched out his numb legs with a soft wince. He felt stiff and hurting in all the wrong places, the throbbing ache in his crotch replaced by the stinging pain in his stomach, clenching with apprehension.

IV.

"I've barely seen you around lately," Bill said, pulling off his gloves and rubbing his hands. He had just entered headquarters and bumped into Remus, who was on his way out. Remus was wearing a heavy woollen coat Bill recognised as Sirius', and a serious expression. Bill frowned. The other man seemed troubled, agitated - as far as one could tell with Remus.

"I've been busy." His voice was very low and hoarse.

"Are you leaving for long?" He didn't really want to be standing in the cold entrance hall, whispering under the painting of Mrs Black, who could wake up every minute, but he didn't want to let Remus go without a word, either. Not when the man looked so - _tired_. More tired than usually. He managed a smile, but it was so weak that instead of reassuring him, it made Bill's heart clench. His hand rose of its own accord and before he could check himself, he trailed his fingertips along the sharp line of Remus' cheekbone.

"Yes. No." Remus fidgeted slightly. "I don't know."

Bill felt increasingly nauseated. Remus never fidgeted. "Where are you going?"

"Order business. Can't tell you."

Bill nodded. According to the Order policy, missions of the single members were to be kept secret from the others: in case one was captured by You-Know-Who and his supporters, they couldn't give away any information on the other members' activities.

"Will you be back?" He had intended to ask 'when will you be back,' and bit his tongue at the breathless apprehension of his tone, but Remus was already answering.

"I should be back in four or five days."

"You're staying away during the full moon?" Bill was seriously startled. Remus usually spent those nights at the headquarters, drugged with Wolfsbane and locked up safely. Bill had never encountered him immediately after the change, but he understood that Remus' transformations left him very exhausted. He didn't expect the man to deliberately stay away during the full.

Remus was watching him calmly. The tender skin under his eyes looked bruised already, and his eyes were overly, feverishly bright. "Shh," he said, shaking his head. "No more questions, Bill. I can't tell you."

Bill swallowed. "Take care, will you." All of a sudden, he felt very self-conscious about his hand hovering hesitantly in midair, longing to touch Remus' face, Remus' sleeve, anything. In spite of everything - they weren't exactly on intimate terms.

"Bill," said Remus, "Bill?" He caught Bill's wrist and tugged gently, and Bill moaned and snaked his arm around Remus' neck, cupping the back of his head, and launched himself into the warmth of Remus' embrace, Remus' mouth and poured all his pent-up fear and lust and desperation into one lip-bruising kiss. He felt Remus relax, ever so slightly, into his arms and strengthened his grip around the man's waist as though to steady him and to support him as long as possible. A primal, needy part of his brain cried out at the injustice of there being too many layers of clothing that separated them, but he silenced it with a low growl that he released into Remus' open mouth. They broke apart, panting for air.

"I'll see you soon," said Remus, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Yeah, I suppose." Bill stretched out his hand, deliberately, and brushed Remus' hair out of his face. "You know where to find me."

 

V.

The meeting was exceptionally long. Bill listened to Snape's account on recent rumours from You-Know-Who's camp in a dizzy stupor. During the six days of Remus' absence, he had worked more efficiently than at any point during the last few weeks. He suspected that Ragnok had read his uncharacteristic indifference as an elaborate form of negotiations and had submitted to some of the suggestions Bill had brought up. He had given his report early, meeting rapt attention on Dumbledore's and Kingsley's part. They were the only ones who had launched into the subsequent discussion with Snape, which was in full swing when the door was pushed open and Remus came in. Bill startled and automatically shifted his chair to make space for him. The man shook hands with everyone except Snape, who merely grimaced and nodded coldly, as though he thought that his report was more important than the fact that Remus had come back unscathed, and seated himself at the other side of the table, next to Tonks. The girl hugged his arm briefly, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. He inclined his head towards her, but looked across the table straight into Bill's eyes. Bill smiled.

After Remus' entrance, Snape's account seemed even more boring than usually. Bill caught himself watching Remus instead of listening and noticed that he was holding himself too straight, too stiffly to be perfectly fine. Remus' movements seemed somehow sluggish, and he nearly knocked over Tonks' glass as he reached across for the wine bottle. When Snape finished, Remus launched into a brief explanation of his own mission: he had been on the Continent, trying to get in touch with the werewolf community in Northern France. "It was partly successful, as I managed to come back with all limbs attached," concluded Remus with that small smile that meant he was anything but amused, "but I don't think they will ever agree to have anything to do with us."

"You will just have to keep trying, Remus," said Dumbledore reassuringly. Bill saw Remus and Snape exchange a fleeting glance before Remus gave a curt nod and fell silent again. He stood up with the others when the meeting was over, and Bill saw him hold Snape back, who looked even more morose than ever, and engage him in a discussion.

On his way out, Bill caught Tonks' arm and began questioning her about the latest raid in the house of an alleged You-Know-Who sympathiser. He was genuinely interested; it had been he who had given invaluable tips as to possible traps and how to avoid deadly curses set in a Dark wizard's home, but his major motive was entirely selfish. He would be damned if he left the house before she did.

He almost laughed as Tonks finally made a rushed excuse and left the house hurriedly: in his efforts to keep her out of his way, he had made her stay longer than she had intended to. In the next moment, Snape brushed past him with a swirl of the cloak and the scent of mint and frog liver, and Bill ran lightly down the stairs and re-entered the kitchen.

Seeing Remus leaning against the oven, a glass of wine in his hand, Bill felt reminded of the first time they had kissed, and he wondered briefly whether Remus lips would be just as bitter today - and if he got the chance to find out in the first place.

"Hello, Bill," Remus said, smiling.

"Hello." Bill stood quite still, watching the other man watching him. "Good to see you back."

Remus nodded in acknowledgment but remained silent. Bill frowned.

"Are you okay?" And on receiving no answer but a surprised glance, he added. "You move as though you were in pain."

"I... didn't have the opportunity to recover after the last night," Remus pushed himself off the oven as though to demonstrate his full mobility. "I'm always a bit slow after a transformation."

"Right," said Bill, feeling rather like an intruder. Obviously, Remus wasn't quite as interested in seeing him again as he was in seeing Remus. "I'll leave you to enjoy your evening off, then."

He was half out of the door, when Remus' voice reached him. "Wait. Bill." He turned back.

"Has everybody else left?" Even Remus' words were slow.

"Yeah, I think Snape was the last one. He was hanging around for quite long..."

"I had something to discuss with Snape," said Remus curtly. "Listen, Bill, I need my bed now." Bill's heart gave a sudden thud as his brain supplied the image. "Can you do me a favour and prepare this potion for me?" He handed a smallish vial to Bill, who held it up to study it against the light. "It's a painkiller," Remus explained, watching Bill calmly. "Three drops into boiling water with a teaspoonful of sugar. Be careful to not let it make contact with your skin."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "Is it what I think it is?" And as Remus merely nodded, he added, "Is it really? As in, highly toxic and absolutely illegal?"

"It helps," said Remus and took a sip of wine.

*~*

Bill had never been inside Remus' bedroom before. When Remus had moved in, Sirius had offered him the master's chambers: a handsome study, where a brightly orange Muggle-style desk, which would have delighted Bill's father, clashed horribly with the rest of the furniture, and a spacious bedroom, chiefly occupied by a huge four-poster bed. Bill passed the study, frowning slightly at the sight of the bizarre desk, and saw that the bedroom door stood ajar. He knocked.

Remus stood by his bed in the dim room, buttoning up his pyjama top. The light of the gas lamps created eerie shadows in the corners of the room and cast a warm hue on his tired face. He gave Bill a faint smile.

"That's a weird choice of furniture back there," Bill pointed over his shoulder. "Wouldn't have expected such a thing in this house."

"Sirius," Remus said laconically. "He transformed some stuff to make it more, um, modern - and to piss off his mother."

"But surely she's never seen it?" Bill's mouth kept talking while his eyes travelled down the length of Remus' body, taking advantage of the lack of many layers of clothes under which Remus usually hid. He was very thin and Bill was sure his mother would go into hysterics should she ever be in the position to closely examine the protruding collarbones and the frailness of his frame. However, his mother was about the last person on earth Bill would like to encounter Remus Lupin in a state of partial undress, if only because he couldn't imagine that anyone would remain perfectly composed at the sight of the smooth, pale skin visible in the V-neck of his shirt.

"But he told her," Remus said. Bill started.

"Pardon me?"

"His mother," Remus said patiently, eyeing Bill closely. "Are you all right?"

"I should be asking you this," Bill said, grinning lopsidedly, attempting to mask his momentary confusion. When he handed the smoking goblet to Remus, he was sure that the brushing of their fingers wasn't incidental.

Bill watched Remus drink and grimace as the hot liquid burned its way down his throat. The effect was immediate; the tension left Remus' shoulders and his face relaxed. He put the goblet carefully down at the bedside table and smiled at Bill.

"Is this what you were discussing with Snape?" Bill nodded towards the empty goblet.

"Yes." Remus sighed. "He doesn't want to provide me with lumonium any longer. He says it's too dangerous."

Bill raised his eyebrows. "Does he? I'd never have suspected him of caring so much for your health."

"He doesn't," Remus said, sitting down on his bed. "He says it's too dangerous for him to, ah, obtain and distribute it." He reached for the glass of water sitting beside the goblet. "Listen, Bill, it's not that I don't value your company," he said between two sips of water, "but I really need to sleep now. Lumonium always knocks me out quite a bit."

"Well, it is lethal," said Bill, watching as Remus' fell back on the bed, not bothering to pull up the duvet.

"Not for werewolves, it isn't." Remus laid one arm across his face. With a quiet, "Sleep well," Bill turned to go, but Remus' other arm shot forward and his hand closed around Bill's sleeve.

"I really do value your company," Remus repeated, his face still hidden under his arm. "I know I don't always give that impression, but I think you should know."

Bill's breath hitched, and he barely noticed his body turn and sink down at the edge of the bed of its own accord. He felt soft cotton under his palm and moved his hand up towards Remus' side, smoothing over the sharp contours of prominent ribs with trembling fingers. Remus lifted his arm, his eyes dark and solemn.

"It's not-" he began. "I will fall asleep in a minute."

"All right," Bill said, his heart beating madly. "I won't-" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "May I kiss you?"

Remus bit on his lower lip and sucked it in, then let go and licked his lips nervously.

"All right," Bill said. "We don't have to-"

"No, it's-" Remus raised himself up on his elbow, reaching for the glass of water again. "I don't want to poison you, you know." He swallowed a mouthful of water slowly, making sure to rinse all traces of lumonium from his mouth and lips. "Very well," he said with a smile, lowering himself back onto the bed and propping himself against the pillow. "Come here, Weasley."

With a soft gasp, Bill leaned in and into Remus' embrace. One lean arm curled around his shoulders, one hand brushed away a few stray strands of hair that hung in his face. He kept his eyes open and focused on Remus' face, until they got too close and everything became blurry. The moment his eyes fell closed, their lips met and Bill wouldn't have cared even if Remus' had still been coated in poison. His mouth was warm and softer than he remembered and he didn't part his lips until Bill's tongue slipped over them, nudging persistently. But when he did, the brush of the slick muscle against Bill's lips and tongue elicited a shuddering sigh and an instant erection. The familiar tickling sensation spread across Bill's lower back and flooded to his groin, making him moan and press down onto Remus, who arched up into Bill's hand. Bill felt the hard muscles of Remus' stomach tense under his palm. He pulled back, panting.

"I better go now." He marvelled at the difference that one kiss had made to his voice, which sounded low and needy. As he pulled back his hand, his eyes fell on the hard bulge between Remus' legs, distinctly accentuated against the thin cotton. "You need your rest."

Remus merely nodded, his eyes fixed on Bill's face, wearing an expression he could not read. It was almost as though Remus wanted to ask him something, but he didn't. Instead, he pressed Bill's hand, briefly. "I do."

"We'll get back to it when you're better," Bill said. The sight of Remus' erection had made him feel bold. "How much rest do you think you need? Approximately?" Remus laughed.

"Patience, Mr Weasley, is a virtue sadly undervalued by many-"

"I am patient," Bill leaned back in, dropping his voice to imitate the not-quite growl Remus always pulled off so effortlessly. "If I wasn't, you'd be on your front now, pushing onto my tongue." He felt rather than heard Remus' breath hitch, but his voice was calm as he repeated,

"What makes you think I'd let _you_ top?"

Bill smoothed his thumb over Remus' cheekbone. "Don't underestimate my persuasive powers, Lupin. I'll keep telling you how much I want to taste you over and over again, until you let me, simply to shut me up." Remus' eyes flashed in amusement and, Bill strongly hoped, desire, but when he opened his mouth to speak and (Bill hoped even more strongly) to kiss, all he managed was a desperate yawn.

"Right." Bill stood up resolutely. "Sleep." With a parting look at Remus' long body, spread out across the pillows, he almost fled out of the room. When he walked along the corridor, passing the long row of old, mouldy cabinets and a series of family portraits that glared at him accusingly, and approached the bathroom, he wondered idly whether he should have offered to stay, if only to watch Remus sleep. But as the gas lamp in the bathroom flickered into life, the door fell into lock with a thud and Bill parted his robes and opened his trousers, he snorted. No way would he have been able to keep his hands off Remus. Not when his cock was hard and throbbing in his hands and the scent of his own lust was filling his nostrils. Bill ran his thumb lovingly over the dark, glistening head, spreading the moisture over his heated skin. He pushed his trousers further down, braced himself against the sink with one hand and wrapped the fingers of the other around the full length of his cock. It wouldn't take long.

VI.

"Do remind me, why are we doing this again?" Bill raised his head and rubbed his tired eyes, pushing the scroll of parchment away.

"Because we were asked to, Bill," said Remus, looking as mild and calm as ever. Smiling, even. Bill grimaced.

"Why did he have to ask us?" He asked the room at large. He felt exceptionally irritated. Everything was proceeding too slowly, the Order spent more time negotiating with the Ministry, the goblins and the Muggle ministry than it did fighting You-Know-Who, and after several months spent at a desk job, Bill felt he was missing the tombs more than ever. He wasn't cut out for that.

"He asked you because you work at a bank, and everyone knows that bankers are good at reading, re-reading, comparing and evaluating long lists of names and numbers. And he asked me, because, well, I've got the necessary patience." Remus didn't so much as lift his eyes from the parchment he was studying. Bill wanted to lick that infuriating smile off his lips.

"Patience, my arse," he muttered instead. "I can't wait for Hermione to be of age and allowed into the Order. She'd just love sitting here and reading through old lists and compare old notes. Do you believe it will help us to find out anything about You-Know-Who? You don't think he really follows any of those patterns, do you?"

"He might." Remus rolled up the scroll neatly, put it back onto the table and reached for a new one. "He's not _quite_ immortal, but he is bound to show some behaviour patterns of the immortal-"

"I think the term is 'undead'," Bill said. "And let me tell you one about the undead: they're unpredictable."

"Unpredictable for us, because we don't understand their motives. But there are certain patterns that repeat themselves. They are driven by forces they cannot resist. Even your mummies, unpredictable as they may seem, don't have the absolute freedom to move."

"Yeah, 'cause it's a bugger trying to walk around wrapped up in all those bandages."

Remus grinned. "You are exceptionally petulant today, Weasley."

"Listen, I know that mummies are constricted in their movement. They can't leave their own pyramid, for once. But the problem with You-Know-Who is, he created a whole new range of, er, undeath for himself. We can't trace his behaviour pattern by comparison with others, because he is the only one of his kind."

"But he used methods to achieve this stage which are well known to us. He merely used them in a unique combination."

"Yeah, well, so tell me how do you analyse the natural behaviour of an undead wizard who, in order to achieve immortality, applied a vampire's method of using someone else's blood and a ghoul's method of using a dead man's body? If even single vampires and ghouls show a highly diverse range of behaviour? I grew up with a ghoul in the house, who _didn't_ wander around feeding on human corpses."

"You did? I didn't know." Remus had put away the parchment for good and was watching Bill with polite interest.

"Oh yeah. He lives in the attic. Friendly chap, if a bit shy. I think Fred and George scarred him for, um, life." He stood up and walked across the room to the window. The building next door was too close, blocking out the sunlight. "I wonder how Sirius' father put up with the sight of a Muggle house in front of his window."

"He didn't," said Remus. Bill turned to look at him. "The window was enchanted to offer a different view. I don't know what it was, though. I never was here before-" he broke off, looking around wistfully. Bill lowered his eyes, trying to think of something to say, but Remus was already smiling again. "The Muggle desk is new, too. Sirius saw something like that at Lily's and it must have made a greater impression than we expected."

"When was that?"

Remus shrugged. "A lifetime ago."

Bill wasn't sure whether the silence that followed was comfortable or not. He was uncomfortable, but that was hardly Remus' fault. He felt itchy and achy in all the wrong places. Spending time with Remus, and Remus alone, for the first time since that night when he had helped Remus to bed and then wanked off in the bathroom, he supposed he should be happier. However, something was amiss. He wasn't sure whether it was his irritation with himself, about not being as committed to The Cause as he should, irritation about the Order, which seemed too slow and too hesitant, or irritation about Remus, who acted as composedly as ever and had not once alluded to the words that had passed that night. Bill wasn't sure whether he himself hadn't been too pushy and too explicit. Just because Remus had kissed him - what, four times - in the course of almost one year, it didn't automatically follow that Remus would want to have Bill shove his cock up his arse.

His breath caught when, at that precise moment when those words had formed in his head, his eyes met Remus'. Even though he was positive that nothing he had just thought had showed on his face, Bill felt horribly found out. He squirmed uncomfortably and walked back to his chair, in a silence that had definitely taken up an uncomfortable quality.

"We better get back to work," he said over his shoulder when passing Remus. "The sooner we'll finish."

"What's wrong?" The words, entirely unexpected, rang in his ears and stopped him in his steps.

"Nothing."

"You're uncommonly tense." Remus turned in his armchair to look Bill in the eyes. "Maybe we should leave it at that so you can go home and take a bath or something."

"Get drunk," said Bill.

"Get laid," said Remus.

The heat wave that tickled along his spine almost made his knees buckle. Bill opened his mouth, closed it, and decided to risk it.

"I don't want to."

"Get laid?" Remus' voice was still quite even, but his breath seemed a bit more shallow.

"Go home for it."

Long fingers dug into his hips, strong hands pulled him closer and, all of a sudden, Bill found himself standing between Remus' thighs, his fingers threading through Remus' hair and his stomach only inches from Remus' mouth.

"You really are tense." Remus' voice had taken up the growl quality again that never failed to send shivers down Bill's spine. "Can I do something for you?"

"Dunno." Bill exhaled sharply and arched his back, just so. "Can you?"

He had always been perfectly aware that he underestimated Remus' strength, but it still took him by surprise when he found himself manhandled easily and shoved down onto the table. Bill raised his hips, pressing his groin into the friction provided by Remus' body draped over his. "I might," breathed Remus.

"Good," Bill gasped, and then stopped talking for a while, because Remus' tongue had begun vandalising his mouth. Sharp teeth tugged at his lips, and when his needy moans had made it perfectly clear that he loved having his upper lip sucked at, Remus took up the clue, until Bill's mouth felt too swollen to speak. Bill closed his arms around Remus' body, pulling him impossibly close. Sharp hipbones dug into the insides of his thighs, a hard chest crushed him down and strong hands yanked his clothes open. Nails trailed painful traces up and down his flanks, fingers bruised his burning skin, and still, Bill couldn't get enough of the sensation, savouring the pain, drowning in the pleasure. Remus' teeth found the bare skin of his neck and Bill writhed desperately, feeling Remus bite him, bruise him, mark him. He moaned and Remus shifted his position, sliding up Bill's body so that his erection came to rest in the hollow beneath his hipbone. Bill pressed against its heat.

"That what you wanna?" Remus whispered hoarsely against Bill's lips.

"More." Bill forced his eyes open. "More."

He felt Remus' smile as the man's lips ghosted over his skin, down his throat, and Remus pressed a hot kiss into the hollow above his collar bone. His arms felt like lead when he tried to lift them, but he managed to place one hand on Remus' hair and guided his head to the side of his neck. Remus licked the frantic pulse there. His hand moved lazily against Bill's stomach, teasing the fine hairs. Bill shuddered and looked down. He could see the slim wrist disappearing under the hem of his shirt. Remus' eyes followed his gaze and, very slowly, he began to pull his hand back and move it down Bill's abdomen, tracing the trail of hair underneath his navel until his finger was stopped by the waistband of Bill's trousers. Bill arched up in unspoken need.

The expression of concentration on Remus' face as the man was working to wrench his trousers open and push the material to the side was breathtaking. Bill wriggled up the table, whose edge had been digging painfully into his tailbone, relishing in the feel of Remus' weight which held him pinned down quite effectively. He decided that he liked the sensation of being taken quite a bit. As though sensing his thoughts, Remus lifted his head and looked up at Bill, his hair mussed, his lips parted.

"I'm going to suck you now, d'you mind?" said Remus in a very low and even voice.

Bill gave a strangled half-laugh. "Be my guest," he said, and gasped when Remus' hand found his cock. Remus continued looking him in the eyes while his hand explored the shape of Bill's cock, and Bill found he rather liked the intensity of Remus' - usually so composed - gaze. He gasped when his foreskin was pulled back and a rough thumb flicked over the exposed tip of his cock, and moaned when Remus lifted the hand to his mouth and licked the wetness off his skin.

"Nice," Remus said.

"What're you waiting for, then?" whispered Bill.

Remus' smile was strangely predatory as he slid down along Bill's body to kneel down between his legs, pulling Bill down with him until his crotch was at the right height. He placed one hand to the spot between Bill's right thigh and his groin and pressed, gently, forcing Bill's legs further apart. Bill gripped the edge of the table with the hand that wasn't clenched in Remus' hair.

After the almost violent exposition minutes before, Remus seemed to have decided to perform the act as slowly as possible. His mouth feathered over Bill's skin, tickled his hair, left tiny kisses around his hipbones, before it moved, with excruciating slowness, to Bill's cock.

His mouth was hot and very wet against the dry, heated skin of his cock, making Bill arch and moan for more. Remus remained entirely unaffected by Bill's tugging on his hair and arching into his mouth, demanding more, much more than those soft, teasing caresses of lips and tongue. Its tip slid along the underside of Bill's cock, applying pressure _just right_ , before Remus withdraw, gave the tip a brief lick and stilled his hand at the base of Bill's cock. Bill got his breath back.

"I don't want to, y'know, ram it up your throat," he panted, pulling on Remus' hair gently. "But I might have to if you don't get on with it already."

The corners of Remus' mouth twitched as he fought back a smile. "So impatient," he said as he moved his hand down between Bill's legs. "You wanted me to help you release your tension. Let me, then." His fingers stopped just at the cleft of Bill's arse.

"So far, you haven't done anything to help me release it," said Bill, clinging to the table and trying not to push down onto the teasing finger. "I'd say, quite the contrary." Remus laughed and leaned in to plant a kiss onto his stomach, eliciting a sharp exhale from Bill, who let go of Remus' hair and closed his hand around Remus' which was still wrapped around his cock. "You see that?" he asked, tightening his grip. "Full of tension."

"Yes," said Remus, his eyes darkening suddenly. "I see." In the next moment, he wrenched his hand from underneath Bill's. "No, no." He shook his head at Bill's attempt to let go likewise, and held Bill's hand in place. "You go on."

Bill had masturbated in front of others before, but it had never made his bones melt as it did now under Remus' gaze. He propped himself up on his elbow to watch the way Remus' face tensed and his hands clenched on Bill's thighs. When he moved his hand all the way up his cock, he could feel the sticky wetness of precome and he made sure to brush his fingers over it. He then pressed them against Remus' parted lips, which were cool and dry. But the tongue that flicked out to taste Bill was very hot.

As though the taste had triggered something in him, Remus lunged forward, sucking Bill's fingers into his mouth. His hands moved to Bill's hips and, holding him in place, Remus ducked his head and took the whole length of Bill's cock up his mouth. Bill could feel his throat spasm and then relax around him and he felt his own pulse throbbing against Remus' tongue. And then, one of Remus' hands slid between his legs again, and Remus moved his mouth over Bill's cock, sucking and licking and - Gods! - _moaning_ against his skin, and a searching finger slipped between his arse cheeks, and then...

...There was a knock at the door. Bill froze in mid-moan, and Remus stilled his hand and pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A second knock came.

"Bill? Are you in there, dear? I'm bringing your tea."

" _Mum_!" Bill moaned. Remus rose to his feet smoothly and stilled Bill by pressing a hand on his chest.

"Stay where you are," he said in an undertone and reached for his glass of pumpkin juice.

"What?" said Bill distractedly. "She'll come in, you know."

"Coming, Molly!" called Remus, taking a drink of juice.

"Hurry!" Bill sat up and gathered his dishevelled clothes around him. He got momentarily distracted by the sight of a bite mark blossoming on the back of his hand. He couldn't remember when this had happened.

"Can't have your mother smell your cock on my breath." Remus, halfway at the door, shot Bill a glace over his shoulder. "Can I?"

Shaking his head and laughing helplessly, Bill rolled off the table and flopped into the armchair. He only then noticed how sore his back was and how strongly his legs were trembling. He was still surprisingly hard, considering that having his mother walk in on him having sex was definitely in the top five of his personal erection killers. Bill raised his hips to pull his trousers all the way up, not bothering with the flies, and snatched a handful of parchment rolls, which he dumped onto his lap.

"Molly, how perfectly lovely of you," said Remus, opening the door to let her in. "And you brought butter crumpets, too!"

Bill pulled the ribbon from his tousled ponytail and smoothed back his messed up hair. Not a second too early, as his mother stepped around the corner in precisely that moment and looked at him disapprovingly.

"You mustn't forget to eat, Bill. Especially as you're working so hard. You look flushed," she added. "Maybe you two should open the window and have a short break."

"Thanks Mum," said Bill. "What a splendid idea."

"Indeed. I think a break would do us both good," Remus said. He stepped around Bill's mother and took the tray out of her hands. "Thanks a lot, Molly. Tea, Bill?"

"Please." Bill didn't trust his voice entirely and he marvelled at how even Remus kept his while talking to his mother. But on the other hand - Remus wasn't her son, and she had never witnessed his adolescent attempts to hide the fact that he had just had a quiet wank, and, later, a quiet half-hour with some girl or boy from the village. Remus' voice sounded rather husky, but so it always did, and Bill was confident that his mother had never learned to distinguish between the different degrees of huskiness.

"You two call me if you need anything," his mother said with a very motherly look and left, pulling the door close behind her.

"What a lovely mum you've got," said Remus without any trace of irony, helping Bill to a cup of tea.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin. Better go and open a window," said Bill. "You look flushed."

"Tension not relieved yet?" asked Remus, grinning. "Have a chocolate biscuit. It'll help."

"I prefer a butter crumpet, thank you," said Bill, reaching across the table. "Don't you want to sit down?" He asked Remus, who was eyeing him thoughtfully.

"Hm. No. I don't think so," Remus said in a voice that made Bill look up.

"May I ask why not?"

"There's some unfinished business I've got to attend to." As Bill merely raised an eyebrow, Remus reached out his hand and added, "Get up, Bill." His fingers were firm and steady as he pulled Bill towards himself, wrapping one arm around his waist. They were about the same height, and Bill liked the way he could look Remus straight in the eyes and how their groins were pressed against each other. Remus brushed a few stray strands of hair from Bill's face, and when they kissed, it was deep and languid and leisurely, their breaths and the soft, wet sound of tongues the only noises in the room. His trousers were still unfastened, and Bill felt Remus' hands travel lower, down his back and into the gap between the material and his skin. Remus moved his hands all the way down, gripping Bill's arse and pulled him closer still. When he felt one long finger slide into his cleft, Bill's insides clenched and pushed against the finger. He felt Remus moan.

"Am I right in assuming that you want to top?" Bill breathed against Remus' lips.

"Any objections?" The finger had reached his opening, and was probing gently. Remus grabbed Bill's arse more firmly, pulling his arse cheeks apart. "I'll stop if you want."

"Do I feel as though I wanted you to stop?" The words came out rather muffled, because he had just discovered that when he pressed the tip of his tongue against the spot just where Remus' jaw ended, just beneath his earlobe, Remus would squirm and sigh.

"You might be too shy to tell..."

Bill pulled back. "Lupin. Fuck me. Please."

Remus' tongue delved deep into Bill's mouth and he groaned hotly and just as Bill started to think that he didn't care for the fuck after all, that a quick handjob would be fully sufficient, as long as something happened _then_ and _there_ , Remus' mouth withdrew. He placed his hands on Bill's hips to turn him around. A gentle hand at the nape of his neck motioned him to lean forward. Bill complied, steadying himself with both hands against the tabletop. Behind him, Remus yanked Bill's trousers down and pushed his legs apart with his knee. "Spread them," he whispered. "Yeah. Like that."

Bill kept his eyes deliberately open and fixed on his hands. They were paler than usual, after the long English winter, and very freckled, and he suddenly felt the desire of seeing them against Remus' skin.

"I want to touch you," he told Remus, who was pressing a gentle finger inside him.

"Later," Remus muttered as the tip of his finger slipped in.

"In your own - ah! - time."

Arching his back, Bill pressed back onto the finger. It glided in very reluctantly, even though he knew Remus had licked it wet. He wasn't really used to getting fucked and felt that he didn't do a good job at relaxing. With Remus' hand gripping his arse, spreading him open, he felt very exposed and vulnerable. As though sensing his discomfort, Remus let go of his arse and smoothed his hand up Bill's spine, soothing and massaging, until Bill arched into the touch. The hand moved along his side, all the way up to his armpit and back down to his hip. Fingertips tickled over his stomach, making Bill quiver. He was hot and needy and just plain _horny_ , and the heat wave was back, tickling underneath the skin of his loins and belly.

"I think," Remus said in his ear, "you should take off this shirt." His fingers did a quick job with the buttons even before Bill could so much as moan his consent. The shirt fell to the floor and then, Remus tongue stroke along his back, leaving a hot trail in its track. The tongue reached his shoulder, Bill groaned, and Remus bit down. The sharp pain shot through him like a Fulgurium spell, but unlike any spell he knew, it went straight to his cock, making it twitch.

"Bill?" Remus whispered.

"Yeah?"

"How much do you want your butter crumpet buttered?"

Bill blinked. "What?"

"I hope you don't insist on its being buttered." Remus' hand had come to rest over Bill's, their fingers entwined.

"Right now?" Bill said between two moans. The finger up his arse was starting to feel really good, despite the discomfort. "Not really, no."

"Good." Both hand and finger withdrew as Remus leaned over him and reached across the table for the butter-dish. He dipped his fingers in confidently and carried a generous dollop to Bill's arse. "It's still rather cold, but I'm sure it'll melt soon enough."

It was cold, and Bill flinched, but laughed nevertheless. "You're... ah...!"

"Improvising?" Remus was smiling, he could feel it. He could also feel heat starting to spread across his arse and down his thighs. "Why, yes."

What a difference a handful of butter made. A slick finger slipped inside him easily, withdrew, and pushed back again, this time curled to hit- " _Yes_!" Bill exploded. "Fuck! Yes!"

The finger withdrew again, and when it was thrust back, Remus went straight for the spot that made Bill curl up, incoherent and dizzy. It barely registered with him that Remus used his free hand to guide his upper body onto the table, motioned him to stretch out, and coaxed his arse up in the air. He was dimly aware that Remus spread more butter all across his entrance, butter that melted inside his cleft and ran down his balls, his thighs, and which eased the way for Remus to shove in another finger, and another, until the friction was almost too much and Bill feared he would pass out from the sensation. Sweating and trembling, with his brain clogged up, a primal, feral urge forced him to push back onto Remus' hand. Just as he felt a powerful orgasm build up somewhere behind his eyes and inside his balls, the friction disappeared together with Remus' hand. Bill opened his eyes with difficulty. "Don't," he whispered, "stop."

Then there was _warmth_ as Remus leaned over him, enveloping him with his body. "Bill?" he said very softly somewhere close to his ear. "All right?" His hand was caressing Bill's stomach, Bill's arse, Bill's cock with feather-light strokes. "Do you want-?"

"Yes. Please." Bill let go of the edge of the table which he had been clenching convulsively and wrapped his arm around Remus' neck. "Go on."

There was a soft huff of breath as though Remus had exhaled sharply, and then Remus was kissing him, deeply, licking the corners of his mouth and nipping on his lower lip with his teeth. Slowly, never breaking the kiss, he began to inch himself into Bill, who panted at the invasion. Remus pulled himself upright and _pushed_ one more time, forcing a cry out of Bill as his cock slipped all the way inside.

Overcharged with sensation as he was, it didn't take long until Bill was writhing on the table, fucking back frantically, enforcing a sharp, jerky rhythm on Remus. "Slow," Remus said in a voice so low it was barely audible. Reaching back, Bill grabbed Remus' arm blindly and pulled him down.

"Don't. Give. Me. That. Shit," he panted in time with the thrusts Remus was keeping up. "As if it hasn't been slow enough, all these months," he said, taking advantage of the short pause that followed. The weight on his back withdrew, there was a rustle of fabric, he felt Remus move, and then there was the overpowering sensation of warm, damp skin all over his back. The hands were back on his hips, long fingers pressed into his flesh, and then Remus _rubbed_ himself against Bill's back, and the feeling of fine hairs, sticky with sweat, and hard nipples grazing over his skin was almost better than the fuck.

Or so Bill thought. But the moment the fuck was back, when Remus resumed the deep, methodical thrusts, he decided that _nothing_ was better than that fuck. Especially when Remus changed the angle, just so, and with each thrusts made fireworks burst behind Bill's eyelids. He was talking, too, but Bill didn't hear, didn't care, because a sudden contraction in the pit of his stomach sucked all the heat from his body, leaving his hands and feet numb and cold, and then it exploded, shooting burning sparks through his groin.

Next thing he knew was he was lying on the worn carpet with Remus' solid weight behind him. His body was still thrumming, but slowly the feeling in his hands and feet was coming back. Remus was hot and sweat-slick behind him, and his hand on Bill's stomach was very sticky. When he shifted in Remus' embrace, Bill felt warm dribble run down his thighs.

"Thank God you were on the table," said Remus lazily after a while. "I don't think I could have held you upright."

"I should have warned you." Bill stretched out and then arched back into Remus. "Getting fucked does that to me."

"Yes, you certainly seem very responsive," Remus said, running fingertips down Bill's bare arm. "Gooseflesh. Look."

"Hm. Yeah."

"Tension relieved, I hope?" Remus wrapped his fingers around Bill's wrist, his thumb stroking the back of Bill's hand.

"Quite." He paused and watched Remus' hand stroke his. "Mum will be back to collect the dishes any moment."

"All right." Remus disentangled himself delicately from Bill and rolled to his feet. Bill blinked up at him, taking in the planes and angles of his naked torso. Werewolves tended to be well-muscled, and Remus was no exception. Though very thin, the firm, defined muscles and unmarred skin let him look a lot healthier naked than he did when fully clothed. He caught Bill staring and frowned. "What?"

"I never got the chance to look at you, did I?" said Bill, sitting up. "Nor to touch you." Remus smiled and, gripping the edge of the table to pull himself upright, Bill added, "Nor to have a butter crumpet."

"I'm afraid the butter's melted." Remus had pulled his shirt back on and was examining the mess on the table.

"That I can feel," said Bill. Grimacing at the sticky sensation on his stomach and between his legs, he rummaged for his wand to wipe himself clean. "Scourgify."

Pointing his wand at the table, Remus restored the tea pot and cups back into their previous arrangement and mended a broken cup. Bill was watching him from the side while dressing. Remus' face was very calm, and so was his voice when he turned round to Bill and offered him a flowered cup filled with - still surprisingly hot - tea.

"That," said Bill, as Remus' fingers lingered against his for a second longer than necessary, "was about the most pleasant tea time I've ever had."

VII.

The news of the murders reached him in the wee hours of the morning. By that time, he had got used to news of death arriving at all times of day and night, but it didn't mean it had become easier to bear. Between extra shifts at the bank and Order duties, he had barely slept in days and his exhausted body cried out at the injustice of it when he forced it into submission and began to dress. His muscles ached, his head spun and tiredness prickled under his eyelids when he Apparated by the smoking remainders of what had used to be the Joneses' house. It took him a few seconds to get his breath back. He then walked slowly towards the debris, dodging elaborate curse traps on his way almost blindly. In the course of the past months, he had gained the reputation as _the_ curse expert, which was less due to the fact that he was really so much better than any of the Ministry professionals, but more due to sheer coincidence that You-Know-Who happened to have acquired a taste in that particular brand of Dark curses Bill was specialised in breaking.

He could see a group of Aurors moving at a distance, carefully trying to avoid any lingering traces of Dark magic. There have been many losses among Aurors when, rather than killing their victims directly, You-Know-Who and his supporters had begun putting curses on their houses, which would go off unexpectedly, triggered by certain words or objects. The method resembled very much the one the ancient Egyptians used to use to protect their pyramids, and dealing with it was second nature to Bill. Others were not so lucky.

A man detached himself from the group, making towards Bill, who recognised the tall figure and broad shoulders of Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror looked grave, and also rather sad, when he gave Bill a brief account on what had happened. The attack had not been entirely unexpected, as the Joneses had always been very outspoken against You-Know-Who, but nothing could have been done to prevent it. "...Hestia arrived barely moments after the curses had set off," Kingsley finished. "She was lucky, I suppose. But her family-" he broke off with a sigh. "There was nothing we could do for them. Now the only thing left is to decontaminate the area and deal with the Muggle witnesses."

"Where is Hestia now?" Bill asked, scanning the surrounding carefully. He could feel the power of the lingering curses, and he was fairly sure he could figure them out. Several years spent in the Egyptian tombs had given him an unerring instinct for the structure of elaborate curse systems and he knew where to look for the sources.

"Lupin took her back to Headquarters," said Kingsley. "He knows what to do."

Bill nodded. Remus was _good_ at dealing with those suffering from shock. It was a knack, Bill supposed. He wondered, vaguely, whether Remus had refined the ability due to experiencing so many losses himself.

The idea was still on his mind when he arrived at Grimmauld Place hours later. The Joneses' estate had been cleaned and sealed, and the Muggle neighbourhood had been combed though for possible witnesses. Bill could hardly keep himself upright with tiredness, but he didn't feel like going back to his own flat. If he was perfectly honest, he wanted to see Remus. And, if he was perfectly, _perfectly_ honest, he wanted to make sure that Remus' offering comfort to Hestia hadn't involved sex.

That idea had begun forming in his mind a few days after the tea time fuck. Bill was no stranger to sexual exploits of all kinds, and he knew that having fucked someone didn't necessarily lead to a better understanding, closer friendship, a relationship or, plainly, more fucking, but it was nagging at him that he so completely couldn't make out Remus' thoughts on that subject. Remus was in no way different that he had been before, showed neither an increased interest nor consciousness nor pointed indifference. In Bill's (not inconsiderable) experience, people's behaviour always changed subtly after they'd had sex; they would behave either more awkwardly or more openly, exchange embarrassed or conspiratorial looks, show a reaction, _any_ reaction. Not so Remus. His behaviour towards Bill was as polite and friendly as ever, and it grated on Bill's nerves. Especially when combined with the lasting memory of Remus and Tonks in the library, back then in October. He hadn't minded it then, and he didn't really mind it now (he could understand their motives well enough), but he could not stop suspecting that Remus had slept his way through the entire Order and that he, Bill, was merely one of many who had been offered that particular form of comfort.

The house was dark and very still. A single gas lamp lit the dim hall, and Bill checked the kitchen first, before directing his steps upstairs. He had no idea what he wanted to do; the thought of invading Remus' privacy was appalling, and he was hoping to stumble across a solution of sorts that would prevent him from exposing himself as a jealous stalker. Especially since he _wasn't_ jealous, not as such. He merely wanted to be sure.

The door to the library stood ajar and the soft crackling of a fire stopped Bill in his steps. He peered inside.

Remus was sprawled in an old squashy armchair, his legs stretched out in front of him, his robe unbuttoned and the collar of his shirt open. His head leaned back against the back of the chair, and Bill's eyes lingered for a moment at the long curve of his throat. The sharp light of the morning sun fell onto him through the tall windows, illuminating his thin face. Bill could see the dark shadow of stubble on his chin, which looked slightly odd, seeing as he had never seen Remus other than clean-shaven before. His arm hung loosely down, the fingers of his hand wrapped around a tumbler of whisky. While Bill was still trying to arrange the different emotions passing through him, Remus' eyes fell open and he looked directly at Bill.

"Good morning," said Remus hoarsely.

"Morning." Bill took one step into the room, and then another one. Remus was watching him approach, his face blank, his posture unchanged. Bill nodded towards the bottle sitting on the table beside Remus. "Mind if I have one, too?"

"Help yourself." Remus didn't move, but as Bill poured himself a glass of Firewhisky, he said with a smile that twisted his mouth but didn't affect his eyes, "Isn't it too early for you to be drinking?"

Bill shrugged, knocked down the drink, put the glass back and sat down on the table. "You're drinking."

"Ah, yes, But I'm... older." Bill knew that that wasn't what Remus had wanted to say. He didn't mind. That conversation was important, and he didn't want to fuck it up right from the start by being too assertive.

"That's why you started drinking earlier," he pointed out. Remus smiled, as though in spite of himself.

"Bill Weasley," he said. "What a quick tongue you've got."

"You know I have," said Bill. He didn't mean it as an innuendo, but there was a sudden flash in Remus' eyes, and, Bill thought, for a moment he looked very much as though he would plunge himself at Bill, but the flash was gone in the next second, replaced by the usual composure.

"I do," said Remus, taking a sip of his whisky. Bill waited patiently, watching dust rise from the shelves and dance in the sunlight.

"What do you want?" Remus asked at last. He had put his glass back at the table, which Bill thought was a good sign.

"Inquire after Hestia," said Bill. "How is she?"

"Sleeping."

"Did you sleep with her?" asked Bill. Remus gave a strangled half-laugh and stretched himself out, positively lounging in the dusty armchair.

"Is that it, Bill? The question everything comes down to?"

"Of course not." Bill shrugged again. "But it's the easiest one to ask." He saw something flash in Remus' eyes again and knew the man hadn't been expecting this. Remus was good at that game, but so was Bill, and he knew that Remus appreciated it.

"I didn't," Remus said calmly. "Would it make any difference if I did?"

"A difference to what?" Bill asked. Remus smiled again, knowingly, and Bill felt found out. Answering a question with a question implied insecurity. He ploughed on. "A difference in my attitude towards you?" And as Remus half-shrugged, he said, almost angrily, "Do you really think I would be offended just because you make your own decisions as to what you do in your spare time?" Remus smirked at the phrasing and, feeling increasingly awkward and hating himself for it, Bill added, "I know you've slept with Tonks. And I'm pretty sure you've slept with Snape - though only God knows why - and I couldn't care less about what you do or don't with any of them. I do however care, very much, about your attitude towards me."

"Meaning what?" Remus had shifted in his chair, and if he hadn't been so angry, Bill would have felt proud about having forced the man with his back against the wall.

"Meaning that I'm not interested in being a pity fuck," said Bill in a very low and very clear voice. "I don't need you to provide... healing buttsex to comfort me. You want to shag me? Fine. But for fuck's sake, don't do it because you feel you've got to make me feel better or anything."

"I don't want to make you feel better," said Remus after a pause. "I want to make you feel good."

All of a sudden, Bill was feeling hot again, but also cold and shivering and helpless, and he decided that it had been a bad idea to drink the whisky after all, because his head had got all fuzzy and was spinning, and there was a weird, reeling sensation somewhere in the depth of his stomach.

"Good," he said, feeling lame and silly. He was looking down on his hand that rested on the table beside his thigh and remembered his urgent wish to see it splayed against Remus' skin. When he looked up, expecting to see Remus' gaze fixed on him, he saw that the other man was looking down likewise, as though avoiding meeting his eyes.

"You're right," Bill said, "I shouldn't have drunk that whisky."

Remus lifted his head to meet Bill's eyes. "Are you unwell?"

"Just tired, I suppose. And drunk." He stood up shakily. "You're a bad influence, Lupin."

Remus stood also, much more gracefully than Bill. He seemed to have full control over his limbs. "You can sleep here. If you like."

"Okay," Bill said. "Thanks." They stood there for a moment, motionless and merely looking at each other across the distance of a few feet. "Which room?"

Remus blinked, once. "Whichever you like."

"Okay." Bill nodded. "Okay."

*~*

When he woke up hours later, darkness was falling outside the windows. He felt relaxed and better rested than he had been in a long time. Little wonder, as he'd just had the longest sleep in what seemed like ages. The room was dim and warm, and it smelled good. It smelled of Remus. Carefully, Bill turned his head and stared at the sleeping man beside him. Remus was curled up on his side, his back to Bill, and was breathing deeply and steadily. Bill could see one bony shoulder, the skin dusted with a smattering of pale brown freckles. The sight of the freckles made him smile; he remembered how he had always hated his, as a child, and how he had learned to grudgingly accept them, as an adult, unable to believe that anyone could honestly find them sexy. But now, watching Remus' freckled skin, he thought he had never seen anything so alluring in his whole life.

He felt especially gratified on seeing that Remus had not bothered dressing for bed. They had taken turns in the bathroom that morning, and when Remus had come to bed, Bill had already been asleep; too many sleepless nights had taken their toll. He snaked his hand towards Remus until it encountered warm skin and moved it down Remus' back. Ah, so Remus did put on his pyjama bottoms after all.

Grinning, Bill rose from the bed and pulled on his robe. It was time for another tea time.

When Bill returned with a tray laden with tea things and sandwiches, Remus was sitting in the armchair by the window, reading. He nodded towards the tray.

"Your mother?"

"Nope." Bill put the tray down onto Remus' bedside table. "I am fully capable of preparing tea and, if I'm particularly inspired, even to make sandwiches."

"I'm sure you are," said Remus, handing Bill the scroll with a sigh. Bill frowned.

"What is this?"

"Kingsley's report." Remus reached for a sandwich and Bill was momentarily distracted by the sight of muscles rippling beneath the skin of Remus' shoulder. He sat down at the edge of the bed and unrolled the scroll slowly, feeling guilty already. The words held no importance for him, not here and now, not when he would have rather drunk his tea and enjoyed the conversation with Remus, before throwing him onto the bed to shag him rotten. He was aware that what Kingsley had to say was more important than his own hormonal urges, but he didn't feel it, and it irritated him.

"Hestia's at the Ministry, then," he said after he had finished reading. "That accounts for the house's being empty." He took up a cup of tea with a sigh, drank too hastily and burned his tongue. He put it back down with a grimace. "I better get going, too," Bill said reluctantly.

Remus handed him another piece of parchment.

"Kingsley slipped in a note of a more... personal character," he said. "Read it."

_Lupin,_

_Don't you dare leave the house tonight, unless it's on fire. You need to rest once in a while and now would be a good time._

_Tell the same to Tonks and Weasley, should you see them. Send them home and to bed; they'll listen to you._

_Kingsley._

"What a lovely caring man he is," Bill muttered. "All tenderness and affection." He let himself flop back onto the bed, his robe falling open.

"You wouldn't dare disobey a direct order, would you, Weasley?"

"Not if the order is as welcome as this one," said Bill, blinking up at the ceiling. "I think I'm in love with Auror Shacklebolt," he announced seriously. Tomorrow, the realisation of what had happened would strike and he would be back in the throes of war. But tonight, Bill was determined to push away all thoughts of death and destruction and remain lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as long as Remus would let him.

The aged armchair groaned as Remus rose from it. He stepped over to the bed, where he remained looming over Bill. The light of a single candle wasn't sufficient to illuminate his face, which remained in shadow, but Bill could see that Remus must have shaved while he had been in the kitchen, making sandwiches and tea. Bill grinned.

"What?" asked Remus.

"You've shaved," said Bill.

"Yes. So have you." Remus' eyes travelled along Bill's exposed body, stretched out shamelessly across the bed, his legs spread out untidily. Bill could feel that gaze burn when it passed his crotch. His cock twitched in the confines of his pants.

Remus was hard, too, Bill could distinctly make out his erection under the thin material of the pyjama trousers which hung low on his hips. A wet spot indicated where the head of Remus' cock pressed against the fabric.

"You look good," said Bill.

Remus laughed. "Hm. That's nice of you to say, Weasley. You don't happen to have any ulterior motives when complementing me?"

"Ulterior? No," said Bill, fully hard now and very aware of it. "Quite superior, actually. Pure, really."

"Transparent," said Remus, staring pointedly at Bill's crotch. When he followed his gaze, Bill saw that the white material didn't do anything to cover his very dark, very swollen cock.

"So," said Bill.

"So."

"There's still something I want to do, you know." Bill didn't know how long he would keep it up. His voice was already betraying him, dropped impossibly low, and he had difficulties forcing his dry lips and tongue around the words.

"Tell me."

"I want to touch you," Bill said. "I want to see my hands against your skin."

"All right." Remus exhaled shakily and then moved over, kneeling on the edge of the bed. One hand came to rest beside Bill's ribs, almost but not quite touching, and the other toyed with Bill's hair, fanned out around his head. "Touch me."

And so Bill did. With a throaty moan, he gripped Remus around the waist and pulled him down onto himself, relishing the way the man's hard body crushed him into the mattress. The skin of Remus' back and sides was cool to the touch, but where he rubbed against Bill, Bill's chest and stomach, he was scorching hot. One hand entangled into Bill's hair, Remus held his head in place, kissing him wildly and desperately, feeding him his tongue and sucking in Bill's in return, and when he opened his mouth a bit more, their teeth clacked together.

Bill was anchored to reality by a few hot spots erupting all over his body: his mouth, burning with Remus' taste, his stomach, where waves of pleasure were blossoming, his cock, ramrod hard and trapped in the hollow between Remus' hip and thigh. Never breaking the kiss, Remus shifted on top of Bill, rolling his hips until their cocks made contact, and Bill could have sworn he felt a magical shock spark through him. He hooked one leg around Remus, and Remus gasped and gasped again when Bill slid his foot between his thighs. It was probably the hottest, most erotic sound he'd ever heard, and he disentangled his hand from Remus' hair and cupped his arse instead. This time, Remus positively groaned, and he bit Bill's lip very hard, before he started grinding himself against Bill. "Like that, do you?" Bill muttered, startling at the sound of his own voice. Instead of an answer, Remus let go of his mouth and began licking a moist trail from his lips down to his jaw, where he bit down, and further down Bill's throat. Moaning so heavily he felt on the brink of hyperventilating, Bill turned his head and arched his throat into Remus' mouth. Remus' hand, still entangled in his hair, was suddenly within the reach of Bill's mouth. His tongue darted out to lap at Remus' fingers, which quivered, and Bill stretched his neck a fraction to suck in Remus index finger. It was damp and salty, and Bill used his tongue to shift the finger into the right position inside his mouth, to push it between his teeth. Remus made a growling sound deep in his throat.

For a brief moment, Remus' weight was lifted from Bill, and he used the opportunity to get his breath back. But in the next second, his breath was knocked out of him again as long, deft fingers curled around his cock and pulled. Bill cried out and bit down on the finger in his mouth. He was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath.

Contrary to what he would have expected, Remus' hand on his cock did not make him incoherent but rather jolted him back to his senses. Bill opened his eyes and fluttered his eyelids to free his lashes from a few stray hairs that clung to them. With a soft chuckle, Remus wiped Bill's hair from his face. "You look completely wild," he said, his voice so thick and heavy it reverberated through Bill's body like the thrumming of the bass drum in a Weird Sisters song.

"You look completely debauched," said Bill, taking in Remus' darkened eyes and his kiss-swollen lips. Remus hair hung in his face, swaying gently with each rolling motion of his hips as he continued grinding himself against Bill's groin. Bill bucked his hips in a wordless attempt to urge Remus on, whose hand had never ceased its stroking motion along Bill's cock.

"You're very hot," said Remus, flicking his thumb over the head of Bill's cock.

"You've no idea." Bill said and gasped at the contact of Remus' rough skin against his most sensitive flesh.

"Want me to go on?" Remus accompanied the question with a very pronounced pull on Bill's cock, who gasped again, clutching Remus' shoulders. Closing his eyes for a moment, Bill gave in to the sensation, feeling heat flooding over him in waves as his balls contracted and his skin began to tingle.

"No," he said at last. "Stop."

Remus let go obediently, and Bill flexed his muscles to flip them both over and stretched out atop of Remus. "Did you vanish my pants?" he asked as realisation dawned. Remus merely smirked. Bill leaned in and licked his lips until the smug smile faded and Remus moaned, hotly, into Bill's mouth. "That's better," said Bill and lowered his head.

"I want to lick you," said Bill, later, after having kissed and sucked his way along Remus' body. His mouth felt slick with semen and saliva.

Remus opened his eyes lazily. "I believe you have just licked me, and very thoroughly at that." Bill could see the pulse point at his throat, the rapid beat flattening even as Remus was speaking, and he pressed his thumb against the hollow at the base of Remus' throat. It was sticky with sweat.

"I want to lick you more." Remus didn't answer. His hand toyed with Bill's hair that fanned out across Remus' chest. Bill waited, patiently, while his heartbeat evened out slowly.

"You've just come all over me," said Remus. "You can hardly want to lick me clean."

Bill flashed a grin. "I don't." He planted a heated kiss on Remus' lips and sat back on his heels. "Turn over," he said, gripping Remus' hip with one hand.

Remus opened his mouth, thought better of it and rolled onto his stomach. Bill sighed at the sight of the long, pale back, gently curved and tapering into narrow hips. He smoothed his palm down Remus' spine, turned his hand over and grazed his knuckles across Remus' tailbone. There was a faint silvery scar at the small of Remus' back, which Bill brushed lightly, before moving his hand further down. He felt Remus shudder as he cupped his arse with one hand, and felt him moan when he swiped his tongue from the small of his back to his shoulder blades.

When he dipped his finger into the cleft of Remus' arse, however, the man tensed ever so slightly, just as he had done before when Bill had tried to insert his finger whilst sucking Remus off. Yet Bill was determined. Wanking Remus and sucking Remus had been exhilarating, but the idea of rimming Remus and fucking Remus made him positively light-headed with lust. Damn the man's trust issues. Bill didn't think he would be able to leave that arse alone.

It wasn't until he had licked Remus' back, the curve of his arse, the insides of his thighs, had left tiny bites along the length of his flanks, that Remus began writhing beneath him, begging, actually _begging_ for more. Bill was hard again, had been hard for what seemed like hours, and his hands were trembling with the effort of holding himself back. His legs were trembling also, feeling as though legions of insects were crawling slowly through his veins, tickling him from the inside, hollowing him. With a sigh, Bill pushed his face between Remus' legs and lapped at his balls from behind. The effect was immediate; Remus came up from the bed with a strangled cry. Bill choked with lust, and when he dived in again, he went straight for the tender flesh in the cleft of Remus' arse. Remus gave a violent jerk and said something unintelligible into the pillow, but he didn't pull back from Bill's tongue which swiped along his cleft very slowly and thoroughly.

His hands clasped around Remus' hips, Bill could feel each shudder that shook the man's body and, growing bolder, he coaxed his hips up a bit to ease access. He tasted sweat, and a sharp taste that prickled on his tongue and went straight to his head, like liquor, and when he dipped the tip of his tongue into Remus, he heard the man give a keening sound which was so entirely unexpected, so unlike Remus, that it almost undid Bill on the spot. He pulled back, panting, until he regained control.

Remus' back was arched and he was trembling; sweat was running down his back, and Bill licked off the drops pooling between his shoulder blades and in the small of his back. He only realised that he was moaning when he saw his heavy breaths stir the hairs in the nape of Remus' neck. Remus exhaled deeply and raised his hips so that Bill's cock came to rest against the curve of his arse. The sight made his head spin, and Bill rubbed himself against the proffered flesh, slid the whole length of his cock along Remus' cleft, saw its glistening head push against Remus' opening and let go of his cock abruptly to push his fingers inside Remus. Holding Remus' hip in a bruising grip, he urged him up to better watch his fingers disappear inside the man's body. Remus' back heaved with breaths that threatened to burst his lungs. He cried out when Bill curled his fingers to hit his prostate.

"Fuck," Bill panted, " _fuck_." And, a few thrusts later, "Do you have anything?"

"Drawer," Remus managed, and, "Christ!" he added when Bill forced another finger inside him, twisting them to loosen Remus as much as possible.

"Good?" Bill asked, groping around blindly in the nightstand drawer.

" _Please_."

The slickness of the salve seemed to make his cock swell, and it tingled in his hand as he guided it into Remus, slipping easily past the generously slicked muscle, which tightened around him even as he pushed inside. Bill paused for a moment, giving Remus time to adjust and himself to stabilise his breathing. He didn't think hieroglyphs boring enough existed that could help him stop himself from coming after merely a few thrusts. But Remus certainly seemed very close, too, and Bill decided that he wouldn't restrain himself and go for a good hard fuck instead. Not that he had a great chance to make it last in any case, not when Remus was shuddering under him, his hands clenching in the duvet, and not when the tight grip around his cock was pulling his orgasm out of him with even the slightest movement he made.

He scrambled into a better position, drew back and pushed back inside, hard, so that his balls slapped against Remus' thighs. Remus groaned and pushed back. Bill shifted to change the angle and this time, his thrust hit right against the spot inside Remus that made him cry out incoherently. Bill wiped off sweat that was running down his forehead and into his eyes. "Can you come from this?" he asked. Remus gave a shuddering snort of laughter.

"Are you kidding?" he said, turning his head slightly so that Bill could see his profile. "How could I not?"

Bill lunged forward, trapping Remus' lips in a messy kiss, stealing his breath. "All right," he said, pulling back. His hands closed around Remus' hips again. "All right."

His orgasm seemed to be torn from the very marrow of his bones, which went liquid the moment his cock emptied itself inside Remus, and Bill crushed down onto the other man's back. Remus, trembling in the aftermath of his own climax, arched back into Bill. Bill closed his arms around him, feeling strangely protective, planted a hot kiss onto the nape of his neck and drifted off to sleep.

He woke up with his mouth dry and his skin itching with sweat and spunk. Remus was lying on his back beside him, looking up at the ceiling, and he turned his head to look at Bill when he felt him stir.

Bill's breath caught at the sight of Remus' flushed face and reddened mouth, and he trailed his fingers gingerly over the man's lips, which curved up in a smile.

"I-" said Bill and coughed.

"There's water." Remus pointed at the table. God, his voice was rough, Bill thought. Almost enough to make him hard all over again.

"You should have woken me up," Bill said when he felt he had regained enough control over his mouth again. Something felt not quite right, however, and, frowning, he raised his fingers to his own mouth and traced his lips.

"Anything wrong?"

"My lips are throbbing," said Bill in wonderment. Remus smiled.

"Mmh." He turned onto his side, facing Bill. "Your mouth looks beautiful."

"You should have woken me up," Bill repeated, and laid one hand over Remus'.

"You need your sleep," Remus shrugged.

"Hm. Yes." Bill fell silent. For a few minutes, he was quite content watching his hand play with Remus', their fingers twining and disentwining, but eventually, he couldn't ignore the worrying thoughts surfacing from the depth of his consciousness and nagging at him.

"What is it?" asked Remus quietly. Bill let go of his hand and turned onto his back with a sigh.

"Hestia," he said. "Her family." He stared at the ceiling for a moment, sighed again, and added, "But that's only the tip of the iceberg, of course. I feel as though we're not doing enough, as though _I'm_ not doing enough. A war is raging, people are dying, and still, I'm lying here, with you, quite comfortable, and quite happy to ignore all the tragedies happening all around me."

Remus, too, rolled onto his back. "You can't think of it all the time," he said calmly. "You need to take a break from time to time."

"I know," Bill said, beginning to feel stupid. Remus had lost much more than he had, and Remus was not going to pieces on him. Then again, he, Bill, had much more left to lose, and the thought frightened him. "I know that I can't. But, you know, I feel as though I'm not committed enough. As though I'm only fooling around, not contributing anything vital."

"You know of course that this is ridiculous. You are contributing-" Remus began, but Bill talked over him.

"Yeah, sure, I do provide some know-how, but. It's only a technical thing. You know? It's not as though I felt any pain. It's not as-" he hesitated and then ploughed on, "it's not as though I have suffered, really, really suffered. I mean, what do I know? Last night, I was pissed off because I was called on duty when I had rather slept. I am irritated because I am no longer in Egypt, enjoying my job and, er, enjoying myself, but have to comb through damp and cold remainders of houses of people who have been killed by You-Know-Who. I know that what I'm doing here is more important than going looking for treasure for the goblins. But I'd rather not be here, and it annoys me. Sorry to bother you with this," he said, rolling onto his side again and giving Remus a faint grin. "I guess I'm just not dedicated enough. I lack the fierce enthusiasm some people have. I'm not Mad-Eye."

"Believe me, I'm glad you aren't. And there is a difference between fierce enthusiasm and single-minded fanaticism," said Remus, grinning likewise. "Fierce enthusiasm, that would be Sirius."

There hadn't been many occasions on which Bill had ever heard Remus mention Sirius. The topic wasn't taboo, but Remus didn't seek it, either, and Bill understood his reserve. He wasn't quite sure just how close these two had been. Oh, he had heard the rumours and the gossip, but he didn't think it was any of his business. If he was honest, he would admit that he was glad Remus didn't want to talk about Sirius, because he wouldn't really know what to say. The eldest brother of half a dozen younger siblings and a people person by nature, he was reasonably good at offering comfort and advice within a certain range. However, he felt he was badly equipped for comforting those whose lives had been substantially shattered and who were facing the shards of their existence. He couldn't even say, 'I know how you feel,' because he didn't. He was alive and well and so, miraculously, was his family.

All those thoughts swirled around in his head, but before he could voice any of them, Remus continued talking.

"You don't have to feel what others feel to be valuable for the Order. The fact alone that you have left Egypt and come back to England shows that you do care."

"I don't think I care enough, though," said Bill. "Most of the time, I'd rather run and never come back."

"So would we all."

"Yeah, but I'd rather run for the wrong reasons. I think." He chewed at a strand of his hair, stared into the darkness and said, "I don't think I'm afraid to die. I am afraid to lose."

"When I was twenty-one," Remus said, "I was consumed by guilt about being the one who was still alive." He gripped Bill's hand and pulled it closer. "It'll fade. You survive and life goes on, poor comfort that it is. There will be losses, and you will lose someone, sooner or later. But you'll survive that as well."

"Unless I won't."

"Unless you won't. In which case we will miss you and mourn you, and move on eventually."

"I really don't know why the girls are all mad about you," said Bill. "You are a wretched comforter, when you think about it."

"Ah, yes. It might be not comfort they seek."

"Careful, mate, my mother is one of 'the girls'."

Laughing softly, Remus rolled onto his front and shifted closer. He laid his arm around Bill's waist, splaying his fingers over his back. Bill leaned in into the warmth. When Remus kissed him, he thought he could distinguish traces of the same taste that had driven him mad while he was sucking Remus and licking Remus and he wondered, briefly, how it was possible for his senses to be still full of Remus and whether it was because Remus' scent had settled in layers all over his skin, filling his nostrils and teasing his taste buds.

"Will you miss me?" Bill asked when they came up for air. He had pushed Remus back onto the pillow, and his hair was hanging down like a long, red curtain, enveloping Remus' face. Remus smiled and wrapped one long strand around his finger.

"Where are you going?"

Under any other circumstances, Bill would not have tried to take that conversation further. But time had become valuable. Tomorrow was uncertain, and his fear of loss included the fear of missing chances. He knew Remus liked him, and he wanted to have something to hold on to in the moment the world collapsed.

"I don't mean to be - you know..." Bill said.

"Eloquent?" Remus supplied, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Bill flashed a brief grin. He shifted and tossed his hair back. Remus was watching him with lazy eyes. Bill raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

"I guess I just want to know whether..." he paused, looking down at Remus, his head tilted. "How deep this runs, really."

"You've just had your cock up my arse," said Remus lightly. "I'd say that's pretty deep."

"Not to forget my tongue." Bill nodded. "I've had my tongue up your arse as well." He watched the other man for a moment and said, just as lightly, "So that's what this is all about? Cock and tongue?"

Remus blinked and shifted. "Bill," he said.

"That's okay, you know," Bill cut in. "I'm not- I'd only like to know." He turned around and reached for the nightstand. "Want some water?"

Remus took the offered glass automatically. "Bill." He pushed himself upright, propped up on his elbow. "It's just... I am not-" he paused, looking bewildered.

"Eloquent?" Bill smirked. Remus smiled weakly. "It's okay. You don't owe me anything. But, you know," he shrugged. "We are in the middle of a war. I could be dead tomorrow. You could be dead tomorrow." He turned his head to face Remus, watching him intently. "I don't want to miss a chance, if this is what it is."

"I see," said Remus.

"Good." Bill fell back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. "God, I really need to sleep," he muttered. "Unless you'd like to shag some more, in which case I'll be happy to oblige."

"Hm. Maybe not."

"Okay."

"I think I'll just suck you off."

"If that's what you like."

"Very much so."

His eyes still closed, Bill smiled and then sighed when he felt Remus' hand on his chest.

"We can still shag, some time," said Remus against Bill's navel, his breath tickling the fine hairs there.

"Later?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Next week?"

"Yes."

"Can I top?"

"Ye-" Remus broke off and laughed, sending warm puffs of breath towards Bill's - painfully hard - cock. "Perhaps."

"You - ah! - liked it," said Bill, arching up into the heat that had just engulfed him.

"Yes." Remus' voice was rather muffled. "But-" he sank all the way down and pulled back up, trailing the flat of his tongue along the sensitive underside of Bill's cock, "I also rather like being in there."

Bill gasped and pushed down onto the finger. "Be my guest," he said thickly. "Now?"

Remus hoisted himself up and stretched out alongside Bill, his finger still buried up Bill's arse. Bill lifted his head to watch Remus' hand working between his legs, but Remus gripped his hair, forcing Bill to tilt his head towards him. "I don't think so," he said, kissing Bill deeply, luxuriously, lapping at the inside of his mouth until Bill gasped and clung to him. "I'll have you come first." He let go of Bill's hair, and Bill fell back, panting.

"Okay," he said. "Good plan."

"Don't think you're a bit greedy, do you?" Remus was moving his finger inside him very slowly, almost tenderly, as though trying to explore Bill as thoroughly as possible.

"It was your idea." Bill nudged Remus' flank with his knee, until the man was lying between his open legs, their cocks pressed against each other, Remus' weight crushing him quite deliciously. He pulled Remus down into another kiss, relishing the feeling of Remus' cock twitching against his when they opened their mouths for each other. "Besides, it was you who seduced me. You're responsible for me now."

"I didn't see you put up a fight."

"I'm not stupid enough to waste such an opportunity." Bill moaned. Remus' finger was moving inside him again. When he opened his eyes, he saw Remus look at him with an expression of utmost concentration on his face. "What?"

"You might regret it one day," Remus whispered.

"I might. It's worth it."

"All right." Remus kissed him again. "Let's give it a shot then."


End file.
